Chapter 200
Chapter 200
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 200
Chapter Title: Temple Whispers and Undercity Frenzy
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After Yoo Seongwon departed, Tayon—who had served as the temple guide—continued his conversation with Constellation Poseidon from the very spot where Yoo had sat.
Just as it had appeared before Yoo Seongwon's eyes, a message materialized in front of Tayon. He evaluated Yoo Seongwon in a tone laced with surprise.
“It was nothing like I expected. To think he'd reject the ‘god-forged weapon’ card. I figured he'd snatch it up and rejoice...”
['Constellation Poseidon' marvels that only someone of that caliber could be the protector chosen by this 'star.' However, from the perspective of claiming this 'star' for himself, he regrets that Yoo is ultimately an enemy.]
“No need to lament. He's just a hunting dog who accepted the commission in the end.”
['Constellation Poseidon' warns once more not to underestimate him. He is, without a doubt, this 'star's' protector—the final adversary we must topple.]
“Of course. Worry not. We will surely bring this world back under Olympus's domain.”
Olympus Guild. They were the world's greatest guild, safeguarding it at present, but their true aim was to unify the world under Olympus Guild.
To unite the entire Earth under the 12 constellations and create a world free of conflict and strife—that was their real objective.
Afterward, they planned to advance to other stars, allowing each of the 12 constellations to claim their own 'star.'
“After all, we humans can only stand at the side of the 'gods.' With that, I'll take my leave.”
With those words, Tayon rose from his seat and withdrew to attend to their duties.
Olympus Guild had already become an indispensable existence in the world. As the guild leading global safety, civilization's maintenance, and politics, they had already accomplished half their goal of becoming this 'star's' master.
All that remained was dealing with mega-threat constellations like 'Eternal Wrath' that endangered this star. Once those were handled, Earth's order would be theirs for the taking.
The moment they eliminated them, Olympus would firmly claim Earth as its own.
***
A few days later, in Yanbian Undercity.
As word spreads when a big feast is held, scavengers began flocking to Yanbian Undercity just as bounty hunters had gathered from all directions, drawn by the loot from Constellation Poseidon's golden-maned tiger starting to hit the market.
Olympus Guild's reputation was already world-renowned, so acquiring not just their weapons and gear but even their intel would prove immensely helpful against them. Thus, scavengers and crime syndicates poured in from far-off Central Asia, India, Africa, and Europe, eager to trade.
“Hey! I’m… Gahk!”
“Hey, you foreigners who don’t speak Korean, get lost. Whack! Damn! Do you even know where you are?”
“This is clearly… China… Urk!”
“Anyone else wanna get beat again? Translation apps work fine these days—why not learn some Korean? Or hire an interpreter! Globalization my ass! If you come to someone else’s turf, you learn their language. Why demand we understand yours?”
In the heart of the Undercity, Park Sukja was in a frenzy controlling the scavengers swarming to buy Olympus Guild gear, weapons, and system intel.
All scavengers through and through, they were wildcards who ignored rules, so maintaining order boiled down to brute force. Tempers flared easily into killings, leaving Park Sukja's hands perpetually drenched in blood.
“Hey, if you’re here to trade, trade clean! And fuck! We only take magic stones and human slaves! Bring weird monster corpses, and you’re dead. No deals with non-Korean speakers! Got it?”
“Son of a bitch!”
“Drecksfink!”
“…Sigh~”
The scavengers grumbled but, surrounded by local Undercity scavengers, resigned themselves and fell into line.
She’d made examples of a few, and the sight of them decked out in the latest Olympus gear—stolen from the guild itself—struck fear. They pulled out PDAs, phones, and laptops, prepping their Korean.
“Jogi… urieun ollimpeuseu ga sseuneun jeontobok i maeni gatgo sipseumnida.”
“Noona! Neunha! Yogi ollimpeus gildeu ga sseuneun jeonja jangbi piryohamnida.”
“Hangugeomal neomu garanhaeyo. Geurigo naneun geudeurui sin i buyu han jonggyojeok mulgeum gatgo sipeoyo.”
“Speak proper Korean, you idiots! Did you run translation apps through the gutter? Anyway, I get the gist—prep your magic stones! And you know it’s pricey, right? This is authentic stuff used by Olympus aces and the Laistrygon Legion. Real deal! Certificates too!”
The scene finally settled, and trades resumed.
Olympus goods commanded sky-high markups that screamed gouging, but buyers mostly snatched small quantities. Rather than personal use, they aimed to analyze for weaknesses or tech knockoffs, or devise exploits.
“Still, the desperate ones buy big. Chinks and Japs~ Yoo-hoo~ Profitable.”
“Shibalnomusikidesu.”
“Jap bastard, you done talking?”
“Ammal an haetseumnida. Jal sasyeotseumnida.”
Of course, with battles raging everywhere and urgent needs abound, bulk buyers were plentiful too.
The Chinese Communist regime especially—controlling just one of four splintered Chinas, with citizens defecting en masse to paradise-like Constellation Dragon-Phoenix King’s China by the minute. They were desperate staving off invasion.
Japan faced resurgent crime syndicates worldwide after Olympus’s defeat news broke, leaving many in dire need of weapons.
“As expected of Olympus. Go big or go home—huge hauls. Fresh slaves galore too. Man, we’re set for a while.”
“Heh heh heh, smooth sailing. Business is your forte, Sukja. I’m best at serving; no talent for this.”
“So… you real? Or fake?”
Park Sukja eyed the human-form pastor suspiciously, questioning if he was genuine or clone.
One prankster might repeat, and the real one rarely emerged from research.
“Hmm? Real or fake—what’s the difference? We’re united in purpose anywhere, anytime. Fighting for myself—what’s wrong with that?”
“…Most’d feel self-loathing or crave being the original, no? Mr. Clone.”
“That’s faith’s greatness. United by greater cause and God’s name.”
His saintly smile—unfazed by being outed as clone—grated on Park Sukja.
She knew he was off-kilter, but identical speech and mannerisms to the original made it creepier.
Which was the point of a clone, of course.
“…Truly revolting. Anyway, what’s up? Not just checking sales. Core dungeon trouble? Need supplies?”
“Contact from my selves in China and Russia. Bounty hunters coming overland. Don’t know exact schedule, but they’ve heard we’re armed and selling, drawing scavengers. Anyway, they’re coming soon—prep up.”
“Pfft, they’ll get wrecked anyway. Whatever~”
“No complacency. Olympus didn’t lose just to clever schemes. They underestimated us. A bit more vigilance—leaving Laistrygon Legion on the ship—could’ve changed everything.”
“Enough nagging. We’ll prepare—just relay who’s coming first.”
Park Sukja treated the clone like the real deal, helpless but gleaning intel.
Scattering trusted copies abroad as spies. Imagining the pastor’s madness knew no bounds was horrifying.
But his insanity didn’t end there.
In a corner lab of Yanbian Undercity, years of research finally bore fruit.
Gazing at the dazed, half-naked Western man before him, the pastor brimmed with joy and ecstasy.
“Finally! Success! Cost-down achieved—perfect cloning setup from any genes and body data! Success!”
He admired his creation.
He’d slashed costs to a minimum, perfecting gear for flawless clones.
Human cloning perfected—Project Clone success! Next: streamline processes with materials, drugs, mana supply for on-demand custom humans.
“Heh heh heh… With this… I can serve… more varied, delicious… meals. Beyond gender, age, race—brand each human as ingredient. Heh heh heh, infinite combos, recipes. To God! Infinite service!”
Most’d clone elite humans for boons, but this pastor infused devotion into everything.
Cloning premium humans risked palate fatigue from tastes varying. So, diverse premiums for novel recipes and divine offerings—that was his vision.
“Normies can’t grasp, so I hid it… but anyway, milestone reached. Japanese data sped things up. Heh heh.”
Remaining tasks: perfect auxiliaries, stock tastier/talented samples for menus, unearth more recipes.
But divine meals mattered, as did other duties.
Temples vital, yet guarding them from heretics equally crucial.
Options abounded, but research complete—no more fleeing.
“Now then, next up…”
“Whoa, jackpot. This the infamous evil org’s base?”
“…Who dares? Trespassing a sanctuary worshiping God?”
Mid-self-admiration, an unfamiliar voice jolted him. The pastor whirled, startled.
There stood a 30s man in jeans and hoodie, oohing over lab and temple.
No overt guards or alarms, but as constellation apostle, the pastor bristled. The intruder casually pulled something from inventory, introducing himself.
“Me? Well… recognize this?”
Thud!
Black at emergence, it gleamed gold in his grasp—a long iron bar. The pastor recognized it instantly.
How many of Constellation Slaughter King’s apostles perished to that golden hunk!
‘God! Why this timing!’
Worst possible foe at worst moment.
SS-rank hunter Yoo Seongwon’s sudden arrival—unimaginable. No golden armor, but identity clear. Pastor racked brains, cautiously probing.
“Why’re you here? Plenty reasons, sure. Here to thwart me again! How’d you find out? Infuriating.”
“…Scavenger forums blew it up? Your Sukja or whoever spread word of sales here. So I came.”
Chilling—he’d infiltrated this alert-riddled Undercity solo.
Opponent had org and base now, so plausible, but rumors said recuperating. This rattled more.
“Rumors said… core dungeon aftereffects, recovering…”
“Lie to skip work. Recovered ages ago. Tried resting, but can’t fool constellations—got quest to kill you. Anyway, your image of me’s warped. Rolled in casual to Undercity—no suspicions. World’s blind~”
With crowds trading, gold-armor-less Yoo blended as customer or visiting scavenger.
Photos public, but folks recalled him armored. At rest, aura worlds apart—quiet entry, undetectable.
“So, purpose? Not to kill, or you’d be geared.”
“Well… it’s like…”